The Taste of Stolen Chocolate
by RisingFire
Summary: Sometimes Pansy is more than a clingy girl desperate for his attention. Sometimes she is a friend, or even a little more than that. PP/DM Oneshot. For The Fanfiction Triwizard Tournament.


Written for The Fanfiction Triwizard Tournament. Details at the bottom.

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THE TASTE OF STOLEN CHOCOLATE

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"Draaaco…" her breathy, slightly whiny voice tickled his ear and he resisted the urge to push her away like a persistent fly.

"Pansy, go away."

She stilled, and he expected her to flounce off like she normally did, or start protesting about how their parents said they were going to be married or something, but she didn't. Instead, she skirted the table and sat down opposite him in a completely un-provocative way, staring at him like a cat at a butterfly.

"What, Pansy?" he asked, looking up from the enormous tome in his hands (_An Extended Definition of the Laws of Vanishing and Conjuring_).

She cocked her head inquisitively. "Don't you remember, Draco?"

"Remember what?" he placed a scrap of parchment in the book as a bookmark and turned his full attention on her, now thoroughly bemused.

"How you used to feel?"

He stayed silent, wondering exactly what was about to play out in front of him.

"A year ago you were the one whispering in _my _ear to come away from my friends to snog in a cupboard somewhere."

He struggled with finding the right words to use.

"A year before that you were prepared to punch Blaise in the face to get me as your date to the Yule Ball!"

"I don't-"

"Remember? You don't remember that? Oh, Draco. Of course you remember that."

"Pansy-"

"You remember it whenever you need a quick grope between classes, or when you want someone to write out your Potions notes for you."

She didn't seem at all mad at him- not spurned, or upset, just vaguely curious and a little sad.

She pursed her lips. "Where did it go, Draco?"

He thought about it, then. He thought about breaking down and telling her everything: that he had the Mark burning on his arm every day of his life, reminding him that his mother was going to die if he couldn't point his wand at his headmaster and say those words.

She blinked at him owlishly, and he was reminded of how they'd used to share chocolate that they'd sneaked in from the House-elves when they were little; hiding under the piano in the library in his mansion while their mothers sat drinking tea and forbade them from eating anything that could damage their five-year-old complexion.

He looked down at the book in his hands. The title gleamed at him maliciously.

"I-"

She leaned forward eagerly, and then it was gone: the little moment of innocent, infantile close-ness sputtered and died like a candle in the breeze.

Her dark eyes morphed in his vision into those of the Dark Lord. Red and gleaming, like the red lace dress Pansy had worn to the Yule Ball just a few years previous (though it seemed like a lifetime ago). She'd been so pretty, he'd wanted to pull her out of the rolling mosh pit in front of the band and kiss her right where she stood. One of those kisses that the girls whispered and giggled about in the dorms, that made her knees go weak and got him respectful glances from the guys he passed in the corridors.

He missed Pansy, in the way he missed his mother, and his stuffed toys, and Dobby the house-elf who'd always brought him chocolate and never told his parents, even when his father smacked him with a towel.

His vision shifted and he was back in the library again, looking at that girl who was pretty but could be so much more if only she didn't _try so hard._

He shook his head, and a brief flash of disappointment glanced across her face before it was swallowed up by her pale foundation.

"Draco…" she coaxed feebly, reaching across the table to grab his hand in an unmistakably intimate fashion that she'd never dared attempt before.

He took a deep breath, and squeezed her hand.

She smiled without a trace of humour. It wasn't a happy smile, it was just a smiled that knew that would be the most she would get and would just have to learn to be content with it.

"Pansy," he croaked, and was shocked to find his voice breaking. "Pansy, when this is over- when this is _all _over, I want you to know that I mean what I'm about to do."

She had the sense to stay quiet, to not ask questions, though he knew by the way her eyes clouded she wanted to.

He stood up, placing one hand on the table and pulling the other from her hand to brush against her cheek. Then he leant forward and kissed her.

Lightly.

Gently.

Like an angel.

He'd never kissed her like this before- normally he was all rough and haphazard or playful and naughty- but she found she rather liked this side of him, who didn't demand or push but simply _was_, like an anchor to the table in the library.

She sighed without opening her mouth.

Pansy was always a constant in his life, from the moment they'd been shoved together by their parents and made to play to this tender, sweet kiss in the library.

Somehow, though, this felt like the end, or at least a shift in something. She didn't know what it was, didn't understand it, but she let it be.

Then he dropped his hand, broke away from her, picked up his book, and left, quickly but not in a hurry.

She sat at that table in the library for a long time, anchored to her seat by the tremors in her legs and the lump in her throat, until Daphne found her and dragged her of to dinner.

A few weeks later, when the rumours began to fly that her best friend had killed Dumbledore, she understood.

Understanding was a bitter taste in her mouth, but it was swallowed by how her lips still felt sweet as stolen chocolate from his kiss. Everything was going to change, she knew, but if she could hang on to that moment, just until it was over (until this was _all _over) maybe things would be okay.

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**Genre:** Romance

**Word Limit: **600-3000 (oneshot)

**Pairing: **(any fanon, trio-era) Pansy Parkinson/Draco Malfoy

**Prompts: **candles, memories, chocolate


End file.
